Chapter 1

ONE

ASA

THIS SERIES MUST BE READ IN ORDER.

If you have not read the other two first, in order, do not read this.

It’s a fucking Monday.You know how I know? ’Cause Cindy just sucked my half-asleep cock until I spurted down her mouth. She must have dribbled because now my thigh is soaked, the sheet sticking to my legs. So annoying. Must have pissed her off. It’s too tiring to figure out how. I’ll have to give her some cocaine later to make up for it. Maybe I’ll just pass her off to Hoss. He’s always wanted a turn with her.

A heavy, irritated sigh escapes my tight chest. Fuck, everything hurts in the mornings. You’d think a nut would help, but no. Waiting for the telltale sign of a bitching woman to leave in a huff, I squeeze my eyes shut. My headache doesn’t deserve a door slam. Couldn’t she be more considerate?

But the sound never comes.

I let my fingers crawl over the imported silk sheets but can’t find anyone next to me. When I lift my eyelids, the pain sears into the back of my skull with the light filtering through all the windows. I’ve been deserted.

What the fuck? I’m never alone.

Panic seeps into my gut as my pulse rises, and my breaths come in shallow pants. Sitting, my head tilts with confusion as I stare down the hall toward the bathroom, but the door is wide open and a black space lays beyond the threshold.

“Mister Donovan, good morning.”

Closing my eyes, I flop back down on the custom memory foam mattress as my lawyer makes his way up the staircase from the elevator. His nasally greeting annihilates all the anxiety that attacked me for a moment, but the ding as the gold doors shut has my teeth grinding.

“We need to go over your schedule, Ace.” I feel him staring at me, looming over the end of my bed like the responsibility reaper, come to kill all of my fun. Crunching my abs, I pull myself up and glance down at the jizz pool surrounding my center.

“Where’s Cindy?” My voice is parched and husky.

With a short sigh and spin on his rich Italian loafers, Kline begins the task of raising all my blinds to their full height, the sun slaughtering any possible comfort the shade afforded me. “You’re married now, Ace. And there are certain rules⁠—”

“Yeah, I don’t give a shit about any of them. Where’s my Monday girl?”

He turns to me and holds out his leather padded portfolio. “She’s not here.”

Huh? Did I just have a nocturnal emission without spraying into some chick’s mouth, cunt, or ass? Like a fucking teenager? Rubbing my hands through my hair, I restyle it as best I can. That’s right… She never did come over. It must have been a wet dream. Damn.

“So, today’s schedule. First, you’ll meet with—Ace, please pay attention.”

Ignoring his droning monologue like usual, I roll over to my side table and sniff a line to get the day started. “Not now, Kline,” I say, wiping my hand under my nose, then shoo the back of it at him. The tingles rush to my brain and suddenly the pain is gone. Eric Clapton had it right. “Go away. I—I’m busy.”

“Asa, you are busy. Today is finance day. We need you to sign the checks.” We. Everything is we. Like we’re all a team. It’s all a fucking racket.

“YOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Not sure which one is more annoying. Kline’s monotone rambling or the boys entering already half drunk, but at least I don’t have to hear about signing checks where there ain’t no money to back it up anyway. The thing is, everyone thinks I have money, so somehow it always works out.

A pretty smile will do just about anything.

“Get the fuck up, bro! Kline, get your nerd ass outta here,” Cass says, shoving his way to the front. My eyes squint as Hoss makes his big, stupid walrus laugh, but I toss aside the soaked sheet, edge out of the bed, and pull my Ralph Lauren cotton robe over my shoulders, then slide my feet into my Dolce & Gabbana house slippers.

“I’m up. What’s with the noise? You guys are louder than a pack of wild dogs.” Padding toward the bathroom, their cries stop me before entering.

“Wait! Ace, you better hurry! We got a bachelor party to attend!” Hijinx tosses his blue dreads out of his face and smiles broadly as he tells me why they’re even more rowdy than normal.

Hiding my eye roll, I tell him, “Great. Cocaine’s on the side table, Jinx, go for it.” That’s all he really wants from me. While I step into the open shower, Cass strolls into the room, and I overhear Kline telling them all to leave, that “Mister Donovan’s busy this morning, then he can play with his friends.”

“Yo, bro. You don’t seem too excited about this party. I’ve got it all planned. Trust me.” Cass sits on the toilet while I grab my Ouai body wash and loofah to start my exfoliation process.

“Hey! Kline!” I yell before they kick him out, which is prone to happen pretty much on the daily.

Kline’s squirrelly face pops in the open door, his wire-rimmed glasses steaming with the heat of the shower. “Yes?”

“Hey, tell my barber to get up here in ten. Need a fresh cut for tonight.”

“Um, sir. You fired the last one after you told him he needed to return to barber college.” Kline readies a pen and has the audacity to give me his best parental stare.

“Alright, then what about the one before? What happened to him?”

“You had sex with his wife.”

Oh, did I? Well, that’s probably true.

“Ha! I remember that! Bitch was so bad, too. Dude, you were so fucked up that night. She was, like, fifty and nasty as fuck. I think even Dave had her suck him off, and she had to take out some teeth first.”

Ew. Well, probably for the best I forgot.

“Okay, get someone else, then, Kline. What the fuck do I pay you for? To watch this perfect hair cut itself? No. Get out there and get me a barber. Someone good.” Kline disappears from the doorway to fulfill his task while Cass continues to chuckle. Hmm, wait…have I run through all of Southside’s barbers? “Hey, yo!” Kline reappears for a brief moment, the grimace on his lips letting me know he’s about had it with me. “Not Cal’s barber. And definitely not Maxi’s.”

Cass twists his head between the two of us as I pick up my cleansing facial mask. “Does the bear even use a barber? Guy’s hairy as fuck.”

Kline leaves us without a response.

Using circular slow motions, I apply the cream and let it steam in the water before moving to my junk. Had a wax two days ago, so I’m good there. Maybe time for a manicure, though. Pedicure for sure.

“Hey! And get Sheila up here to do my toes!” I meet Cass’s sparkling deep brown eyes and lower my voice so Kline doesn’t give me shit. “She’s literally good at doing my toes, you know?”

His rich espresso-colored skin crinkles as he lifts his thick lips into a broad smile. “Oh, I’m very aware. She does mine, too. On Sundays.”

Before I can fully peel off the mask, a loud crash like glass shattering interrupts me. Cass and I glance at each other, and he shakes his head slightly. “Probably Jinx.”

“Sorry, Ace!” Hijinx yells from the next room.

The water hits my exposed neck when I tilt my head back, and all I can wonder is how much is this gonna cost me? Cass must sense my irritation and skips out on the rest of my shower, but the door is open. The guys’ boisterous chats bounce off the tile walls as I finish up. Drying off with my Turkish cotton towel, I wrap it around my waist before checking out my nose hairs, any possible wrinkles needing more Botox, then my hairline in the mirror. Definitely time for a trim.

Dave’s lanky body waltzes into my walk-in closet while I’m trying to figure out what to wear.

“Here.” His deep bass resonates through the quiet space, padded with my custom suits. He hands me a lit blunt and I take it from him, sticking it between my teeth as I grab my white sequined dress pants while taking a deep puff. “They wanna start at Mickey’s bar, then I think Trixie’s got a show on for us tonight at the club. All your favorite girls will be there. I told them to load you up with at least four at once, since you’ll basically be celibate after this shit goes down.”

Nodding, I pull on a white dress shirt, then the matching white sequined suit jacket. Monogamy is simply not going to happen. I’m not built for that. If I had a heart or soul left to give to someone, they’d just leave or end up dead. Not worth it. My childish dream of having a marriage like my parents, a happy home like I grew up in, was buried when they died. Maybe it was even before then, when Ashley was murdered, when my mother lost her will to live and Dad couldn’t make her happy anymore.

An image of Cal’s face as he told me he killed her flashes in my mind and my anger rises to the surface again. My friend took everything away from me. The burden of betrayal weighs heavily on my shoulders. It’s only quelled by a deep inhale of the smoke.

I study my fit in the mirror, finishing things off with my father’s watch and a black pocket square embroidered with a wolf. As I slip on some white loafers, I instruct Dave, “Tell Jinx to get out of that stupid pink outfit he’s got on. He’s worn that shit since high school. We’re all going in dress whites tonight.”

We roll out of the closet as I finish the blunt, back toward the main open room of my city loft. When I enter the bedroom, I peer over the rail where Jinx must have smashed the glass coffee table in the living room below. No one’s made a move to clear it as they all lounge around the sofas playing their stupid sports game, but a deep purple stain on the white couch assaults my eyes.

Pulse pounding in my throat, I sprint downstairs, snatching the glass out of Jinx’s hand. “What the fuck, man? Didn’t even clean this up? Did you do that?” I point to the wine smeared into a cushion at the back of the loveseat. Oh, and on my white shag rug…

Jinx’s gray eyes narrow as he shrugs with not a care in the world. “Sorry. Thought the maid would take care of it.” When he snags the stem of the crystal back from me, more maroon liquid splashes out of the top and spills onto the floor. My fists curl to punch the little shit, but Hoss taps me on the shoulder and shoves a cold beer in my palm instead.

“Here, man. Calm down. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Gripping it while still maintaining my death stare at Jinx, I twist off the top and down some, the cool taste helping my irritation abate. Jinx takes up his regular stance, flopping back on the seat and expertly ignoring me. Sneering at them all, I say, “Always ruining everything I have. I like things neat and orderly. You know that. And you guys are here all the fucking time, never once pitching in to help. I let you empty my drinks, smoke my dope, snort my coke, eat my food… Hell, even fuck my girls.” I open my hand toward the glass shards laying all over the middle of the room. “And you break shit. Every day, you break shit.”

The four of them pause their conversations and stare up at me in my outburst. It’s time for my monthly temper tantrum about their freeloading, but despite it, I know I can’t get rid of them. Let’s face it, these are the only people who can stand me. They have to; they’re my family now. Or have been ever since I was a teenager. They knew me before my parents’ death. But they didn’t when Ashley was alive before my world turned to the hell it is now.

There’s this feeling I have. I don’t even know if there’s a word for it. But it’s there all the time, like I’m missing something. Or I forgot to get something. Constantly, I go through a checklist to figure out what it is.

Am I hungry?

Thirsty?

Sleepy?

Need sex?

In pain?

When the answer is no to all of them, misery sets in. So, to avoid that, I seek some pleasure. A small hit of dopamine that will abate the sinking hole I’m constantly sliding toward.

Like quicksand.

These guys are way too stupid to understand anything of value. The only reason to keep living is pleasure. Otherwise, I’d just rather be dead. Downing the rest of my beer, I bite the foam remnants off my bottom lip before announcing, “Alright, I’m over it. Hurry and change, assholes. We’re going out looking fresh tonight. Dress whites. Where’s that barber?”

Why doesit always have to be so loud? The dull bass of the repetitive drums in the back room of Trixie’s blares through my ear drums until they’re full of hot air. Closing my eyes, I let my head hang back on the red velvet chair while one of the gals, I think her name’s something inane like Matrildacox, grinds on my leg. I’m already past drunk, though. My cock isn’t moving, and I want something.

I’m not hungry.

Cass taps my fingers with his long tattooed ones as some upstanding citizen of Gnarled Pine slurps on his overgrown ebony dick. “Hey, I heard a few lackeys took some heat today up near West Tech.” His black eyebrows wiggle up and down as his large palm presses the girl deeper into his crotch with a rise of his hips toward her face.

“Oh?” I can barely hear my own voice. Did I even speak?

“Yeah. I think those foxes got hold of some weapons finally.”

Foxes… Cal.

I’m not thirsty.

Fuck that snake for murdering my sister. Likely killed my parents, too. Wouldn’t put it past him. Always carrying that weird, stoned smile masking his serial killer eyes. Now, we don’t even have the West’s weed, ever since I declared we’re at war. I’ve been down to skunk since he took out my supplier like a fucking drug lord. The only reason Kline set our spies on him was because he tried to commandeer the market. At least, that’s what he told me.

The rage I’d held at bay since the coffee table incident roars back to the surface. Bumping the stripper grinding on me off my hip, I say, “Darling, go gyrate on some other wallet. Mine’s not paying out.” Nodding toward the succubus on Cass’s crotch, I tell him, “Hurry and finish. Let’s go. We’re hitting up West Tech tonight.”

Jinx dances like a fool on the small backstage, spinning on the pole while a few gals clap and giggle at him. Hoss leans into some Amazon thick lady against the wall, both his hands filled with her round bottom while he eats her neck.

“Jinx, get down off there, fucking moron. Let’s go. Hoss! Come on.” Glancing around the dim red-lighted room, all I see is a purple haze and empty sofas. “Where the fuck is Dave?” Before I can even picture him cutting up some whore in the bathroom with a machete, Trixie walks in with her saggy boobs almost falling out of her low-cut top. Frizzy gray and black curls spread like a Medusa all over her head as she plants a pink-painted smile across her full lips, making a path straight for me.

“Mister Donovan, is anything wrong? I got you all the girls you like tonight. They came to work just for your celebration.” My “celebration” is really about them getting their money for the night. This isn’t about me. Never has been.

“Thanks for the hospitality. We got somewhere to be.” I brush past her and head to the little side bar, which already has some cut lines on it. Taking a sniff of a row of the white powder, I stand up just as Dave waltzes in with a serious expression but, fortunately, no blood on his hands.

“We heading out?” he asks.

“Yeah. Hitting up West Tech for revenge.”

A nefarious grin crosses his lips as his black shaggy hair falls into his eyes. “Awesome. I’m down. What do you want? Just handguns or what?”

“Nah, nah. No one will be there right now. I want some Molotovs. I want fire, big explosions. I want the place destroyed.”

Cass approaches, tucking himself back in his white pants as Hoss slaps a large palm on my shoulder and says, “Sounds like fun, boss. Let’s do this.”

“I’ll drive. Jinx and Dave in the back with the cocktails. Cass up front with me in case we gotta pull on someone. Hoss, you get in the way back. Check our six.” His large shoulders slump, and I know he’s thinking he won’t fit, but I don’t want any lip. It’s go time.

On the way out, I snag a few bottles of liquor and the boys do the same.

Loading into the Escalade, I hold the Jägermeister in my lap, then open it and down some, the stinging sweet licorice barely registering on my numb tongue. “We need supplies, but I don’t want to get them from around here— Oh, shit. Bitch, get out of the road!” Some stupid cunt walks across the street without even looking. Right in front of me.

Cass grabs the upper handle near his passenger window, his body swinging into me while I swerve to avoid killing the old woman. “Yeah, I agree. Let’s head to East Side on the outskirts of town. That motorcycle place probably has what we need, and I don’t think they ever fixed the cameras after Strauss burned them down a couple months ago. They won’t even know.” A loud laugh escapes with some spit as he peeks over at me. “D’you want me to drive, boss?” His words are heavily slurred. Much more than mine.

“Nah, I’m good. Hand me a blunt, Jinx. That’ll slow me down.”

Jinx makes up for his idiotic antics earlier in the day and rolls one on his lap, using the board from my seat back, while I try to keep the wheel steady. In a few, he lights it for me before passing it between the seats, the thick smoke filling the cabin.

Am I sleepy?

Veering through center city, we make it to Panhead’s Motorcycle Shop in hours. Or what feels like it anyway. I don’t know, I’m high as fuck. Somebody else really should be driving.

As we pull up to the large white building, I’m shocked the place looks clean and new. It doesn’t fit in with my memories of the desolate wasteland that is East Side. A tall chain-linked fence surrounds the property with a wide gate, a large padlock hanging off the front. I stop the vehicle in front of it, waiting.

“What do we do now?” Cass asks, as his head swivels around the area, but the windows are all black, no city street lights able to make it through the summer trees.

“I could pick that lock,” Dave says.

Jinx yells, “Dude! You made me spill all the seeds. I was saving those!”

“Are we there? It’s really tight back here,” Hoss says, barely audible over Jinx’s whining.

Shrugging, my foot shoves down on the gas pedal and we barrel through the fence, the windshield fracturing into a million tiny pieces, blocking my view. All the guys shout various curse words, but I can hardly hear them over the loud laughs erupting through my chest, which don’t even stop when I slam into the side of the concrete building.

“Damn, that was fun. Fuck, I think I ruined the Escalade. Oh well. Let’s take a couple bikes while we’re here.” I’ve never driven one before, but I bet it’s not that hard. Like a bicycle. But with a motor. Glancing around, the guys all take turns slowly chuckling like they’re unsure what I’m going to do next... That’s my favorite place to put people.

“You’re so fucked up, dude.”

“Holy shit, I thought you were trying to kill us all.”

“Oh, no, no, no, Ace. Stop.” Cass grabs my forearm so tight, his black knuckles turn white. “Reverse, reverse, reverse. Look, man, quick.” His dark eyes widen as he points out my side window.

A stocky guy with beady little eyes and a thick neck emerges from an open metal garage door, holding a machine gun and pointing it right at us.

“Oh fuck, Ace! Get the fuck out, bro! Go, go, go!”

Starting the engine, it barely cranks, but eventually turns over and gives enough so I can move. Just as I spin in reverse, the man fires, the back glass shattering while Hoss’s head disappears behind the seats. Bullets travel through the cabin and take out some front pieces of the windshield, which helps me to see better. With a squeal and burn of the tires, we peel out of the parking lot and back onto the main road.

Now sober, none of us say a damn word the entire trip until I eventually make it all the way to Southside and my casino, White Wolf Lodge.

When we all tumble out of the trashed Escalade, the hood smoking and bent, the valet kids stand with their mouths agog, probably in awe of the destruction. I don’t know why they’re so surprised; I’m known to leave a warpath.

Each step toward the elevator up to my penthouse causes fury to set in. Fucker at the garage ruined my night. I could have gotten back at Cal, my brilliant plan interrupted by that piece of shit. Instead of good times, revenge, and ending with my balls drained, I’m home without burning anything down and no pussy.

Too wasted to do anything now that the adrenaline has worn off, I stagger out of the elevator and somehow make it up the stairs to my bed. Fresh linens greet my naked body once I strip off the sequined suit, now ruined from the night’s activities. Bless my maid. I’ll give her a raise…of money I don’t have.

In the morning, I’m greeted with another splitting headache and sticky sheets. Veronica.

“Good morning, Mister Donovan and happy Tuesday.”

I see the stains of my ejaculation on my lap as I bolt upright, but no triplets. What in the actual…

“Where’re my girls?”

Kline adjusts his glasses and stares me down like I’m an unruly child. “You’re married now, Mister Donovan. You signed a prenup, remember?”

Oooooooh. The fucking prenup. Oh, fuck. Maxi is a dirty, dirty bastard.

“No women other than your wife or he will cut off your new funds, which you need in order to sign those checks. Remember now?”

Lying back against the pillows, I stare at the white ceiling. “Am I really married?”

“Yes, and the wedding’s on Friday.”

I’m in pain.